


Sudden and Unexpected Circumstances

by stepantrofimovic



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Character, Asexual Phil Coulson, Canon Temporary Character Death, Clueless!Clint, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Cuddling, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, TAHITI feelings, insecure!Clint, mentions of amnesia, not AoS compliant, who's really our favorite kind of Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-04 17:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5343089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepantrofimovic/pseuds/stepantrofimovic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony Stark jumps to conclusions (which is not unusual), the rest of the Avengers believe him (which <em>is</em> unusual), Fury chooses the path of least resistance (which is annoying), and Clint Barton finds himself pretending to be Phil Coulson's boyfriend at the worst possible time. Or the best, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rescue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clint_Coulson_Exchange_2015](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Clint_Coulson_Exchange_2015).



> The original prompt was for a fake/pretend relationship, with a focus on the 2012 Avengers team and a preference, among others, for an asexual character.
> 
> Many thanks to [isisanubis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/isisanubis/pseuds/isisanubis) for a helpful and quick beta-read.
> 
> [rated for a couple of instances of PG-13 language, but nothing else]

*** _undisclosed location, present_ ***

Phil Coulson is sitting in the only chair in his room – the spare furnishing bearing testament to the fact that he’s not meant to be receiving visitors these days. He’s been busy staring at the wall for a good twenty minutes, the book he was reading laid open and forgotten in his lap, when the intercom suddenly crackles to life.

The fact that Phil doesn’t react apart from a slight twitch of his shoulders is, in turn, a testament to how well his recovery is progressing, forced isolation notwithstanding. Just a few weeks ago, a sudden sound like that would have been enough to leave him shaking for hours. This doesn’t mean that he’s in any way prepared for the overly-cheerful voice that comes out of the speaker.

“Agent Coulson! Can you hear me?”

“…Stark? What the hell are y–”

“No time for questions, Agent. Just sit tight. Your knight in shining armor is coming to get you.”

Before Phil can reply, a burst of static cuts the communication short.

*** _Avengers Tower, New York – four hours earlier_ ***

“Clint. I think you need to get help.” Natasha, as usual, is not subtle with her openings.

“Help for what, exactly?”

“Don’t pretend we don’t both know what I’m talking about. You’re not okay.”

“Nat, you always know when I’m not okay. What’s the news?”

“The others have noticed as well.”

Clint’s hands clench around his glass of orange juice. Even by his standards, it’s too early for coffee – orange juice at least lets him pretend that he’s going to try and get back to bed for a couple more hours. He isn’t, of course. He knows exactly how that would end.

“So what?” he asks, trying not to sound too harsh. After all, none of this is Natasha’s fault. Clint’s own, well, then, that’s another story. So far, five different therapists have tried to convince him that what happened in New York – and on the Helicarrier, oh, let’s not forget the Helicarrier – wasn’t his fault. So far, five different therapists have proclaimed him a lost cause. “Look, we’ve had this conversation before. How am I supposed to get help about this?” He makes a generic gesture with his hand. Natasha knows what he means.

“You could try talking to someone, at least.”

“That’s rich, coming from you. Besides, I’ve already been through enough psych evals in the last months – or do you think I need to talk to a few more shrinks, just to be sure?”

“You know what I mean, Clint. You could try talking to some of _us_.”

“Yeah.” Clint’s smile is more of a painful stretch of lips that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Fat lot of good that would do.”

Nat slides up to his side at the breakfast counter. Putting herself in a position where Clint can’t look her in the eye is a sign that what she’s about to say isn’t easy for her. Or that she wants him to think so. No matter how many years Clint has known Natasha, or how far he trusts her, he’ll never know for sure if she’s trying to manipulate him.

“It’s hard on us, when you don’t let us help.”

“Who’s _us_ , Natasha? Again, are you talking about yourself? Or do you want me to believe that Steve or Stark or Ba–”

“Did someone say my name?”

Tony breezes into the kitchen with his usual self-assured gait, but the rythmic twitching in his jaw betrays his nervousness as soon as Clint glances at him. Natasha, for her part, has already progressed to a full-on glare.

“Hey, Itsy-Bitsy, don’t look at me like that.” Now Tony’s waving his hands about, the way he does every time he has some serious – or not so serious – explaining to do. “I swear I have the most pressing reasons to interrupt the two of you. Extremely pressing reasons. Life-changing events, possibly.”

“What do you want, Stark?”

Tony, like the others, must be used to Clint’s short temper by now, but apparently he’s keyed up enough that he flinches a little at his hostile tone. “I’ve come to tell you we’re leaving. Wheels up in fifteen.”

As soon as she hears that, Natasha straightens up reflexively. “What’s the mission? Fury’s orders?”

Tony’s grin is even more manic than usual, which is really saying something. “Trust me,” he smirks, “Fury’s not going to be happy when he hears about this.”

“Okay, Stark, spill. Where the hell are we going?”

“We’re going to get Agent Coulson back.”

Clint physically reels at Tony’s words, as if he’d hit him. His voice sounds hollow to himself as he answers, “What, did you and the good doctor Banner finally figure out a way to bring back the dead?”

“No. But, apparently, SHIELD did.”

*** _undisclosed location – present_ ***

“ _Phil._ ” _Oh, God_ remains unspoken, but Clint knows that right now Phil can read it on his face, plain as day.

“Clint! I’ll admit, when Stark said ‘knight in shining armor’, I was pretty sure he was talking about himself.”

“Yeah, not going to pretend I can’t see the reason behind that. But, well, no. He meant me. A.K.A. your boyfriend, at least according to the current majority opinion.”

“My what?” Phil’s lips quirk in his trademark non-smile – and if Clint wasn’t busy freaking out about the ginormous mess he’s made in the last couple of hours of his life, he’d be overwhelmed with the joy of seeing that expression again. As it is, he barely manages an answering grimace.

“Thought you should know,” he mumbles. “I swear I can explain, okay? Just – can you roll with it for now? At least until we get you out of here?”

“Sure.” Phil’s smile looks definitely more genuine now, and Clint is trying very hard not to let his knees give out under him, _not now, please and thank you_. “I trust you on this.”

Clint swallows. “All right. Let’s hope it works.” If his voice comes out a bit hoarse, Phil doesn’t comment on it.

“Anyway, thank God you can walk. I wasn’t looking forward to carrying you out bridal-style. Now, let’s move.”

The twinkle in Phil’s eyes as he rises to his feet is nothing short of beautiful. “Right behind you, Barton.”

*** _SHIELD headquarters, Washington – three hours earlier ***_

“As I believe I’ve mentioned before, Stark, I’d prefer if you kept the fuck out of our files. Especially the ones that are marked eyes-only. _My_ eyes only.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Nick-J. I get where you’re coming from. As I’m sure you get why I’d prefer if you didn’t keep information from us – you know, petty things like a friend of ours being not-quite-dead. But, you know, you can’t always get what you want. Well, I can. Most of the time. And, right now, I very much desire an explanation. And I’m sure I’m not alone in that, in case you were wondering.”

As a counterpoint to his last words, Tony’s gaze wanders meaningfully around the conference room the Avengers have requisitioned for the occasion. The whole team is here, plus Fury and Hill – that the Director showed up with his right hand is no surprise at all, but that he didn’t even try to bring more agents with him is telling enough. The Avengers, apparently, are not the only ones who have been kept in the dark about Agent Coulson’s survival. Fortunately for them, this doesn’t put Fury in a favorable position. At all. Nor does Steve’s steel-hard gaze, or the way Thor has none-too-subtly set Mjolnir on the table as they sat down, or Banner’s audible, controlled breaths.

Yeah, Fury definitely doesn’t have the upper hand here.

“Look, I get that you’re all concerned about Agent Coulson’s current status. What I can tell you is that his condition is stable and that information about it is classified. _Properly_ classified, as can be gathered by the fact that you’re here rather than on your way to the rescue. You still don’t know where he is.”

“That’s true, Director.” Steve’s voice has that clipped undertone the rest of the team knows well, the one that says Captain America is disappointed – and everyone, even Fury, knows nothing good can follow from that. “Which is why we came here, on the assumption that you wouldn’t hesitate to tell us.”

“Rogers. Don’t be an idiot.”

Now, Clint might not be the best judge when it comes to diplomacy, but even he can tell that this was the wrong move on Fury’s part. Very wrong, judging from the sound of Thor’s chair screeching on the floor as he raises halfway up. Steve, for his part, has already leaped to his feet. He braces his hands against the table, all the better to show his muscles bulging under the suit – and boy, does he look impressive.

“I’d advise caution, Director. You will find that no one in this room is inclined to take your side in the current situation.” Natasha sounds almost bored. She’s slumped in her seat, her arm casually swung around Clint’s shoulders. Clint, in turn, sits with the expression of a man ready to do anything. Which, you know, is always a good strategy when you don’t actually have any idea of what you’re supposed to do.

Also, at the moment his brain is still busy processing the news that _Phil Coulson is not dead_.

“Romanov. I thought that you, of all people, would be reasonable about this thing.”

Natasha limits herself to raising a bland eyebrow at Fury’s remark.

“Look, Director.” It’s Steve’s turn to speak up, again. “To some extent, I could say I understand your reasons for telling us Agent Coulson was dead in the immediate aftermath of Loki’s attack. Especially since Agent Barton was still in recovery at the time. But the fact that you kept up the pretense with Clint after the Battle of New York is unacceptable, and by playing with his grief like you did, I believe that you have shown your disrespect to the Avengers as a team.”

Well, Clint recognizes that having Captain America accuse you of disrespecting his team must be pretty impressive. That said, he’s starting to get a feeling that he won’t like where this is going.

“Wait a minute there, Rogers. What do Barton’s delicate feelings have to do with all this?”

At this, Tony scoffs, Steve’s knuckles go pale where his hands are gripping the table (which gives an ominous creak, _and it’s stainless steel_ ), and Bruce takes a particularly harsh breath through his nose.

“You know, Director,” Tony’s voice has assumed the appropriate serious undertones beyond his usual teasing, “the fact that you keep dismissing Barton’s relationship with Agent Coulson as something trivial is not really working in your favor, if you can take my hint.”

Fury looks at him. Then he looks at Clint. Then he barks out a laugh. “Wait, Stark. Are you seriously telling me that you believe Barton and Coulson were sleeping together?”

*** _undisclosed location, present_ ***

“Okay. So what you’re saying is, Fury gave up the coordinates to this facility because you told him we were in a relationship?” The familiarity of Phil’s disbelieving tone would be nice, if it wasn’t for the small part of Clint’s mind that’s whispering, _see?_

“ _Stark_ told him we were in a relationship.” Thank God they’re walking down a corridor, so Phil can’t see the blush that’s creeping up Clint’s neck right now. Or maybe he can. _Awesome._

“And everyone else just – bought it?”

“Look.” Okay, Phil may not be able to see Clint’s face, but he must have seen his fists clench. _Not good._ “He called a team meeting to plan this thing. He had Thor bifrost his way down from Asgard. Now, I wasn’t invited to that meeting, so I have no idea how he convinced everyone we were together, but apparently, he reviewed all extant evidence and we’re awfully plausible. His words, not mine. Also, did you really have to choose a cellist as your dating cover?”

“What does my cellist have to do with this?”

“You know who else plays with a bow? Apparently, this was ‘the nail that sealed the coffin’ on our secret relationship.”

“Oh, sweet Lord. _Stark._ ”

*** _SHIELD headquarters, Washington – three hours earlier_ ***

It takes Clint an embarrassingly long time to notice Nat’s repeated tapping on his shoulder.

… — — —     • — —   • •   —   • • • •     • •   —. _Go with it._

She’s telling him to keep up the pretense – and she’s right. It doesn’t matter now how the others got convinced that he and Phil were in a relationship in the first place – if Clint pretending that Phil is his boyfriend ( _okay, holy shit_ ) is going to help them get Phil out of whatever medical hell he’s in, then Clint is going with it. No questions.

Especially since the others seem hell-bent on defending his honor. Thor has already mentioned the term “shield-mates” twice (if he wasn’t a bit busy freaking out, Clint would laugh at the pun), and both Steve and Stark have made their view of Clint and Phil’s relationship, and its importance to the team, abundantly clear. There may have been some graphic imagery involved on Tony’s part, which didn’t help one bit with Clint’s freak-out.

“So,” Fury leans back in his chair and casts an ominous look around. “You’re all convinced that Barton and Coulson were together.”

“Yup,” says Tony. The others nod, more or less gravely. The surprise, however, comes from Hill, who nods as well.

“Hill? Are you kidding me?”

She sighs. “While I’m definitely not happy that this will cost me 100 dollars to Agent Sitwell, sir, you must admit that the possibility of a romantic arrangement between Agents Coulson and Barton has been on the table since Tangier, at least. I do believe that you bet in favor of it, actually.”

Tony makes a scandalized face at that.

“Okay, fine,” Fury huffs. “Let’s admit, just for a moment, that Coulson and Barton were banging each other. Don’t look at me like that, y’all, I’m not going to make this into some sort of fairytale romance. Why should this make me more inclined to give up Coulson’s location?”

Before Steve can answer, Bruce speaks up. His voice sounds off, and there’s a slight greenish tinge to his irises. He seems distinctly unbothered by it. Fury’s eye, on the other hand, is twitching in definite alarm.

“While I normally hate to act as the Other Guy’s spokesperson, I must admit that I share his current sentiment that keeping Clint in the dark about Agent Coulson’s survival was, plainly speaking, a dick move, and most likely to excite a reaction on the Hulk’s part. I know that the rest of the Avengers agree.”

“Now, let’s not –” Fury gets cut off again when Steve raises his hand. It’s clear that he thinks it’s now his turn to speak, and that he has many momentous things to say.

*** _undisclosed location – present_ ***

“Oh my God,” Phil huffs. They’ve stopped for a few minutes to let him catch his breath. He’s visibly weak, and it makes Clint’s heart clench, but they don’t have time for this right now. His amusement as Clint summarized their meeting with Fury, however, is something Clint can’t have enough of. “And what did Captain Rogers say?”

“Oh, Steve went on a rousing speech about the soldiers in WWII who fought their battles with their sweethearts in mind.” Phil laughs, and it’s another beautiful sound. Well, to be honest, each of his breaths is a beautiful sound to Clint’s ear right now. “I’m not kidding, Phil,” he pouts all the same, because it’s what he’s expected to do. “He really did. It was awful. But it did push Fury to give up your location, so you won’t hear me complain right now.”

“Oh my God,” Phil repeats, shaking his head in mirth. “Are you telling me that Captain America, WWII hero and national icon, didn’t hesitate to put a homosexual relationship on the same level as war sweethearts? I must have died and gone to heaven.”

Clint stares at him. “They haven’t been giving you access to the press, have they?”

“No,” Phil grimaces. “I barely managed to get the full report on New York, and that’s because I kept asking for weeks. They say it’s bad for my recovery. Well, said. Anyway, why are you asking?”

“Because if you had access to any news source in the past few months, you wouldn’t have missed the Stark-Rogers scandal. Or, as some people like to call it, the Superhusbands affair.”

“The St– oh my God. No way. Are they –”

Clint nods solemnly. “If what you mean is ‘married’, then yes, they are. Believe me, you won’t hear the end of it.”

*** _SHIELD headquarters, Washington – two hours earlier_ ***

As soon as the Avengers have left the room, Maria Hill turns toward Director Fury. “What do you think of this, sir?”

“I think they were either bullshitting me, or they trust Barton way too much. But Project TAHITI is getting on my nerves, with all their secrecy about Coulson’s condition, so if they really want to take him away from there, I’m sure as hell not complaining. Plus,” Fury ends with a smirk, “looks like I’ve just won Sitwell’s bet.”

*** _Guest House compound – present_ ***

“So, before we walk out of here –” They’re nearing the exit, and Clint knows that the others will be eager to leave, so whatever Phil has to say needs to be brief. He doesn’t, however, have it in him to cut Phil off now that he can hear his voice again. The thought is enough to almost let the weight of the day’s events catch up with him.

“Clint? Are you…?”

“Fine, it’s fine. Go on. Sorry.”

“I just wanted to ask – I understand that you’d prefer to keep up the pretense for a while? Our, uh, supposed relationship, I mean. Until Fury gets off our back?”

Clint smiles, but it’s brittle. Here it comes – Phil thinks he was an idiot, hell, he’s probably offended that Clint didn’t deny that they were in a relationship straight away. It’s what Clint does, after all – he fucks up. Still, there’s no way they can back out of this mess right now. He needs time to make it right, and not just in Fury’s eyes.

“More like, until I can find a way to tell the others that I basically lied to them in order to get you back. I’m sorry, Phil, I swear, but you couldn’t believe how many times Steve managed to tell everyone that our relationship was ‘an essential factor’ in his decision to confront Fury – and it was a short flight from DC to this place.” _No, you idiot. This can’t be what Phil wants to hear._ “Of course, if you decide it’s better if we don’t, we could come out to them straight away, I mean, it’s not my decision, of c–”

“Clint.” Phil is smiling softly at him, and all of a sudden the emotions of the past few hours do catch up with Clint. “It’s okay. I’m sure we can swing it for a few days, if it’ll make things easier. Heaven knows I need to stay away from trouble for a while. Plus, apparently everyone’s ready to believe that we’re together, so why not have some fun with that?”

There’s a mischievous twinkle in Phil’s eyes, but at the moment Clint is too busy trying to keep himself together to return the sentiment. He can’t stop focusing on the fact that _Phil is here_ – finally here, alive. Clint could touch him, if only he allowed himself to. It wouldn’t be the first time they touched, of course – on the contrary, they were apparently tactile enough before Loki that people could easily believe they were together. Now, however, Phil’s mere presence is enough to make Clint tremble with happiness and relief – he can’t imagine how it’d be like if he was allowed to _touch_. Still, the urge to hug Phil is getting hard to resist.

Phil, being Phil, notices Clint’s turmoil all too well – and, being Phil and a precious gift to the world, he can’t bear to leave him to it. “Clint. I swear, it’s okay. C’mere.” He spreads his arms, and then there’s no reason for Clint to resist any more.

Falling into Phil’s proffered hug feels like coming home. In the end, the first picture the rest of the team gets of the two of them together is while they run, hand in hand, up the Quinjet’s ramp. Their hands stay entwined for the whole flight back to New York.


	2. Home

“Welcome to our humble abode, Agent Coulson!” Tony proclaims, mock-solemn, as they walk out of the elevator and into the Tower’s common floor. Or not so mock-solemn, now that Clint thinks about it – Tony seems to have taken the whole ‘Coulson as a damsel in distress’ thing a bit too seriously right from the start. It would be annoying even if it weren’t for the fact that Clint is technically lying to his whole team right now. Given the current situation, it’s exasperating.

Although, to be fair, nothing compares to Cap’s insistence. Of course, Clint gets that Steve may be in need of a justification for his insubordinate acts toward Fury, but honestly, the flight to New York has been every bit as oppressive as that from DC to the Guest House compound. He can’t wait to get some time alone – to think about how they can get out of this mess, to start with – and he’s sure that Phil is on board with that plan as well.

_Speaking of which._

“Now, I’d love to be the one to show you your apartments, Agent, but I think the honor rightly belongs to your boyfriend, here.”

Clint doesn’t wince. He’s good enough for that, at least, okay? And besides, they’ve made it this far. It’s not going to get worse now. Is it?

“Of course, I took the liberty to assume that you two would want to share an apartment. I had the cleaning bots set up the guest room on Clint’s floor – not that I’m expecting you to use it.” Tony winks. Okay, Clint might have been slightly too optimistic, again.

Not that he actually resents Stark’s choice, to be honest – the perspective of keeping Phil close is all too welcome. Plus, there’s a part of him that’s enjoying the pretense a bit too much – especially when it allows him to do things like hold Phil’s hand, or have him sleep two rooms away from his.

It’s also possible that this was the reason why he didn’t immediately clarify the misunderstanding with Fury, but Clint isn’t going to think about that, not yet.

There is, of course, the small matter of how Phil is going to react to the news that they’ll be practically living together. A quick glance to Clint’s right reveals that Phil looks – relieved?

Yep, definitely relieved. And maybe a little pleased. Well, that’s interesting. It’s also threatening to send Clint’s thoughts back to a much-unwelcome place. After all, he managed to convince himself that Phil didn’t like him back years ago. He sure isn’t going to reconsider because of this whole stupid charade.

Oh no, he isn’t.

Is he?

_Aw, brain, no._

***

As soon as the door to Clint’s floor closes behind them, Phil’s shoulders sag visibly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, noticing Clint’s concerned look. “I’m a bit – overwhelmed, I guess.”

 _By me or by Stark?_ , Clint wants to ask. Instead, he nods and steers Phil towards the living room. And the couch in the middle of it. He looks like he needs to sit down.

As Clint practically deposits him on the couch, Phil turns and brushes his cheek with his hand in an only marginally awkward caress.

Clint, of course, freezes on the spot. _What?_

Phil may be tired, but he notices Clint’s reaction. “Is Jarvis not…?” he asks, gesturing towards the ceiling.

“Oh. Oh!” Clint’s brain takes a few seconds to come back online. “No. No, he isn’t. I asked him not to. He – it’s a bit complicated, but basically, he has video and sound access to this floor, but he doesn’t record anything unless a disturbance manifests itself.” He doesn’t mention that the most common disturbance since he moved in has been him waking up from a nightmare.

Phil smiles. “I see. He’s subconsciously aware of this floor, but doesn’t notice or remember anything unless he has to.”

“Exactly. Or unless I ask him.”

“Good. Could you – do that? I’d like to say hello.”

“Of course. Jarvis?” Clint looks at the ceiling in turn. Despite the four months he’s been here, he still does that every time he has to talk to Jarvis, even though he knows that the AI isn’t physically located above their heads. “Would you mind tuning in, please?”

Phil smiles again – probably appreciating the turn of phrase Clint chose to “alert” Jarvis. Or maybe this is Clint projecting, because he chose it with Phil in mind – thinking about how _he_ would have addressed Jarvis if he’d been alive.

“Agent Coulson!” There’s a warmth to Jarvis’s voice that always surprises Clint, even after he’s learned many of the ways the AI shows his personality. “I must say I’m very pleased to see you.”

“Likewise, Jarvis. How are you?”

While Phil and the AI chat, Clint concentrates on not bringing his hand up to where the memory of Phil’s caress is still lingering on his cheek. Is this how they’re going to act when the others are around? Casual touches and PDAs? Because if they are, Clint is so fucked.

He chases away the image of Phil kissing him in front of the team. Fortunately, everyone knows they’re both too private for that kind of display. _Yeah, fortunately._

***

At lunch, which they eat with the others in the common floor’s kitchen, Clint finds out that yes, casual touches and little PDAs was exactly what Phil was planning. It takes him some effort to keep a straight face every time Phil puts a hand on his shoulder, brushes his fingers against Clint’s while taking a carton of Pad Thai from him, or flicks his ear when Clint answers one of Tony’s jokes with a particularly scathing remark.

Not that Phil has never done any of these things before. They’ve always been, as has already been said, very tactile. Years of friendship and weekly movie nights at Phil’s house have a tendency to do that to people. Well, to Clint at least. And if he’d never managed to stop feeling like he was stealing something away from Phil with every casual touch, well, Phil never seemed bothered by it, so he’d decided not to be in turn.

It’s just – having the others look at them and think that they’re in a relationship, it makes things feel different. Or maybe it’s the fact that as late as this morning Clint still thought that Phil was dead. _You know, whatever._

For the whole meal, Clint can feel the intermittent weight of Natasha’s gaze on the two of them. He makes a point of always meeting her eye.

***

After lunch, they all move to the living area of the common room. Phil still looks tired, but he hasn’t asked to go back to their – to _Clint’s_ floor, so Clint cannot exactly complain on his behalf.

Then Stark decides it’s a good idea to start questioning Phil about what happened after Loki stabbed him, and Clint learns a couple of things.

One, whatever treatment Phil was subjected to, Clint doesn’t like it, not one bit. He knows he should be grateful to who- and whatever brought Phil back, but there are too many things that don’t add up, and Clint can’t shake the feeling that this time SHIELD has done something they shouldn’t even have tried. The red flag is the fact that Phil remembers nothing about his treatment until he started physical therapy. He knows he was awake not long after Loki stabbed him, but his memory, he keeps saying, feels like it’s been scrambled, and it hurts to think back. He tried, he said. When he was in the facility. He can’t remember how long, exactly, he’s been in PT. He thinks it was about three months. No, he can’t explain how he was able to walk a month after being stabbed through the heart. No, he can’t explain how Jarvis, who was monitoring the Helicarrier the whole time the Avengers were there (“…yeah, Tony, you should probably have mentioned that”), didn’t pick up his vitals after he was proclaimed dead.

“Unless I _was_ actually dead for hours, of course,” Phil says with a wry smile. None of the others smile back.

Clint looks at Natasha, sees the way her lips are set, and knows that Fury’s about to get a very unpleasant visit. Well, another one. For his part, he tries not to think about Loki, and waking up with your memories coated in a blue haze of _mine obey plan kill_.

The second thing Clint notices during Stark’s impromptu interrogation is that Phil seems to be actively seeking physical contact when he’s upset. Which is merely a detached way of saying that Phil spends the whole of Stark’s questioning leaning on Clint and, occasionally, grasping Clint’s hand. Given the way Phil is shaking throughout, Clint is pretty much convinced this part, at least, isn’t an act.

He’s seen Phil unconsciously seeking physical comfort before. None of these past situations was something he’d ever want to face again.

The third thing Clint learns (not that this is a surprise) is that watching Phil grow tired and uneasy through the others’ interrogation kicks his protective instincts into overdrive. Which is how he finds himself cutting Stark off after about an hour of questions.

“I think that’s enough,” he says. “Phil is exhausted, and he’s not going anywhere. You can continue tomorrow, if you want. We’re going back to my floor.”

In what is probably a first for the Avengers as a team, no one questions Clint’s decision.

***

“What would you like to do?” Clint asks as soon as they’re back in his living room.

“I don’t know. Lie down, I guess.” Phil’s face looks a worrying shade of gray, but he’s still trying to keep himself together. Clint knows that he has no reason to pretend taking care of Phil is his duty, not while the others aren’t watching, but he finds that he’s still not ready to let Phil out of his sight.

“I have Netflix,” he says. “Well, Tony has Netflix.” Which may or may not mean that he owns the company, but well, whatever. “We could stay on the couch. There’s plenty of space for you to lie down, and you can take a nap if you need.”

“Sounds good,” Phil mumbles, so Clint starts to queue up a few _Doctor Who_ reruns. They’ve both already watched those episodes, but Phil always says he finds the series relaxing. Clint thinks it’s all the British accents.

Halfway into choosing which episodes to watch, Clint suddenly realizes that a series with a lead character who regenerates might not be the best choice right now. So he switches to _Dog Cops_. At least this should be trigger-free.

It doesn’t really matter, however, because Phil falls asleep about ten minutes into the first episode. Somehow, he manages to sleepily shuffle up until the top of his head is touching Clint’s thighs. He sleeps on his side, with his hands and knees drawn up against his chest. _Fetal position_.

Before Loki, Clint had always seen Phil fall asleep on his back.

After another ten minutes, Clint pauses _Dog Cops_. He isn’t watching anyway. He looks at Phil sleeping, and pretends not to notice that his hand has started absent-mindedly stroking his hair. It’s soft and thin, like Clint always imagined it to be.

He stubbornly ignores all the different feelings that are welling up in his chest, and focuses on the surge of protectiveness instead. He can pretend that this is a good thing. _Isn’t it what they’re doing right now? Pretending?_

***

Phil wakes up about an hour before dinner, and announces his intention to take a shower. Afterwards, he looks a lot more like his usual self, apart from the fact that he’s wearing a soft sweater and jeans rather than a suit. Clint has to swallow back the urge to bury his face in Phil’s chest. That sweater looks _very_ soft.

Dinner is both better than the rest of the day and a million times worse. Tony, apparently, has decided to drop the questioning about Phil’s recovery, and to focus on sharing the most embarrassing details about his and Steve’s sex life (Clint seriously hopes he’s exaggerating, otherwise he’s going to have to move a million miles away from the Tower – oh, and stop using half of the gym equipment, because _ewww_ ), in the hope of eliciting some reaction from Clint and Phil. Fortunately, with Phil back to his usual more-or-less stoic persona, Tony’s met with a barrage of cool sarcasm and pleasant smiles. Natasha and Clint help from time to time, but mostly, Phil is more than fine by himself.

Clint finds himself wondering how long it’s been since he’s felt so at ease with the rest of the team. The answer, of course, is never. There was no place for snarking at each other when Phil was – not there.

His knee stays pressed against Phil’s under the table for the whole dinner. Neither of them seems to notice the fact that the others can’t actually see them touch, so this time they have no excuse.

***

That night, surprisingly, Clint is not the first to be woken up by a nightmare. Okay, that might have something to do with the fact that he hasn’t been able to fall asleep yet. His brain keeps going back to the picture of Phil in soft flannel pajamas (which he borrowed from Clint, because he didn’t want to sleep in SHIELD-issued pajamas, he said), his face barely shadowed with five-o’-clock stubble. He’d looked frail, like he was about to disappear, and Clint had suddenly found it unbearably difficult to restrain himself from giving him a kiss goodnight.

He wonders how Phil would have reacted if he did. _Damn, this is getting out of hand._

He’s been alternating between half-formed fantasies of kissing Phil and beating himself up for thinking about him that way for an hour, at least, when he hears some noise coming from Phil’s room. He doesn’t need to think twice before he’s rising to his feet and quickly padding down the corridor.

Phil is tossing about in his bed, eyes shut tight. He looks like he’s fighting against some sort of restraints, and Clint can hear him whimper softly. As he approaches the bed, the whimpers suddenly turn into a string of terrified, forced whispers.

“Let me die, please, let me die, I’m begging you, please, let me die, _please_ …”

Clint freezes on the spot, suddenly filled with revulsion. Not at Phil, obviously – but there’s no escape from the fact that whatever reason, whatever memory is leading Phil to say those _things_ , Clint was the one who put him there. It’s his fault. If he hadn’t succumbed to Loki’s control, Phil would never have gotten hurt. He’d never be saying those things about himself, those –

Clint’s moment of self-loathing gets interrupted when Phil’s eyes fly open. He looks so disoriented and scared that there’s really no question about what Clint’s going to do. He runs up to the bedside and takes Phil’s hand, rubbing his thumbs on Phil’s knuckles in what he hopes is a soothing motion.

“It’s okay,” he says, urgently. “I’m here.” Then, more calmly, “You’re in the Avengers Tower, New York. You’re safe.” He goes on reciting the protocol for flashbacks until Phil’s eyes focus back on him. He can see the moment embarrassment kicks in, and Phil makes to pull away.

Clint’s reflexive reaction is to clasp his hand more tightly. “It’s okay,” he repeats – about something different, this time.

Phil seems to hesitate for a moment before he sags back against the pillow. “Before you ask me what I was dreaming about,” he says, and his voice is bitter, “I don’t remember.” He grimaces.

In any other situation, Clint would be irritated at Phil for trying to keep his nightmare to himself. As it is, he’s just scared, because he knows that Phil isn’t lying.

He stays there for a few more moments, then realizes that he has absolutely no excuse to keep holding Phil’s hand, and pulls away.

“Try and go back to sleep, ‘kay?” he tells Phil, already retreating towards the door.

For a moment, Phil looks at him like he’s facing some sort of internal debate. Then he sighs and whispers, “Would you stay?”

Clint stays. ( _Was there ever any question?_ ) He sits back down on Phil’s bed, and holds his hand until he falls asleep. He’s so busy not thinking about how ( _adorable_ ) fragile Phil looks that he doesn’t even notice that he’s falling asleep in turn.

***

He wakes up sweating, with his head propped up uncomfortably against the headboard and a feeling of absolute dread in his gut. He can’t say he didn’t expect to dream about Phil’s death – after all, it’s happened pretty much every night since Loki. What he didn’t expect was to wake up to the terrifying thought that he might have dreamed about the rest as well. That Phil might not really be there, that he might still be dead.

But Phil is right next to him, asleep – even though his face is still pale, and there are new lines etched all around his eyes.

The feeling of relief that floods Clint while he watches Phil’s chest rise and fall is so overwhelming that his eyes fill with tears. Phil is alive, he’s _there_ , and it doesn’t matter how far Clint messes this, or his relationship with the team, up – they’re going to be together.

Of course, because Clint is a lucky guy, that’s the moment Phil chooses to wake up. Which means that he finds himself looking straight at Clint’s tear-streaked face and, he supposes, epic puppy-dog eyes. The latter must truly be Rogers-level epic, because Phil gives him a ( _beautiful_ ) sleepy-soft smile and scoots over, silently motioning for Clint to lie down next to him.

Once more, there’s no way Clint could say no.

***

Waking up in the same bed as Phil, with his downy hair tickling his nose (because somehow they’ve progressed to spooning during the night, with Clint acting as the big spoon, and _ohmygod_ ), is something Clint would never have thought possible.

He gets about ten seconds of confused, heavy-limbed bliss before he remembers what happened during the night. Then he concludes that he should be utterly, absolutely ashamed of himself.

He took advantage of Phil’s nightmare. He – insinuated himself in Phil’s bed? _Okay, that actually sounds a bit too creepy._ But he’s definitely overstepped his bounds, and he can see no easy solution to that. So, of course, he does the thing he always does when he can’t see a way out: he slips out of bed, careful not to wake Phil up, and goes to find Natasha.

***

Natasha’s reaction is to raise an eyebrow and stare at him for a while like he’s suddenly grown a second head. The fact that she’s in orange fuzzy pajamas doesn’t make her any less scary, and she knows it.

After a long ( _well, it felt long enough_ ) scrutiny, she tells him one word. “Observe.”

“Observe what?” Clint whines.

“Phil.” _You dummy_ remains unspoken, but Clint can hear it. “If you’re really convinced that you’re taking advantage of the situation, keep an eye on him and try to find out if he’s really just pretending for the others’ sake. If he is, then you are allowed to freak out. Otherwise, don’t come whining to me again.”

As most of Natasha’s suggestions do, it makes a lot of sense.


	3. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it needed saying, I'd like to point out that Phil's definition of asexuality is by no means meant to encompass the whole ace spectrum. No one of us experiences things the same way, and asexuality is no exception.

So Clint spends the following day monitoring Phil’s behavior in the effort to decide whether he genuinely wants to spend time with him. It’s not the worst day in his life (Phil dying set a bit of an unbeatable record for that), but he’s not exactly having a great time.

Especially since everything seems to point to the fact that he’s an idiot, and that Phil is really pretending that they’re together just to cover his sorry ass. Which shouldn’t come as a surprise, given that, you know, that’s how the whole thing started in the first place.

Things start to go to hell during breakfast. Phil is already in the communal kitchen, somewhat uncomfortably sandwiched between Tony and Steve at the breakfast counter, when Clint walks in after his visit to Natasha. Someone (Steve, Clint guesses, but it might have been DUM-E in one of his rare good days) has made blueberry pancakes, and Phil is digging through a stack of them. When he sees Clint entering, he looks so happy and relieved that for a moment Clint almost believes he has a chance.

Except that, of course, who wouldn’t be relieved if someone came to save them from the sort of conversation Stark seems to have started with Phil?

Clint starts to understand what’s wrong when Tony turns towards him with what may be best described a predatory smile. “So,” he says, “not that I want to pry – but, honestly, I absolutely want to pry, so let’s just go ahead, shall we –, I was just asking, how was the amazing, my-boyfriend-is-back-from-the-dead sex you two have undoubtedly been having last night?”

Unfortunately for Clint, he’s managed to pour himself a mug of coffee while Tony started to talk. He chokes on it so badly that Steve actually moves to clap him on the back before considering that he’d probably end up cracking a few ribs.

Of course, as soon as he manages – through a rather undignified coughing spell – to get most of the coffee out of his windpipe, the only answer that comes to Clint’s mind is, “We’re not sleeping together.”

And now, three people are staring at him. _Oh, shit._ “I mean. We _are_ sleeping together. Technically. In a sense. Uh. What I mean is, we aren’t –”

“What Clint is trying to say is that I’m asexual. Which, in case you didn’t know, means that I don’t feel sexual attraction towards other people.”

This time, Clint is very grateful that he doesn’t have coffee in his mouth. Fortunately, Phil’s declaration seems to have monopolized Steve and Tony’s attention for the time being, so neither of them notices the dumbstruck expression on his face.

“Of course I know what asexual means,” Tony exclaims. Then his brow furrows in what Clint has grown to recognize as one of his most dangerous expressions. “No, wait. Did you just say you _don’t like sex_?”

“Well, yes.” Phil is smiling his blandest of smiles. “Don’t misunderstand me – I _have_ had sex. Nice sex, meh sex, terrible sex. I’m just – not into it as much as I should be? Or, not into it at all. What you need to know is, I’m perfectly fine without. And Clint is being nice and not bothering me with it, which, you know, is what a good boyfriend does.”

“… I suppose,” Stark says, after a beat of silence.

Meanwhile, Clint is quietly freaking out for the second time in two days ( _again, probably not his record_ ). Because some part of him wants to believe that Phil just came up with this new cover just to get Tony to stop asking questions, but honestly, it’s too plausible. First off, it would explain how Phil went through all the years they knew each other without ever mentioning the prospect of a relationship. Okay, now, there’s a possibility that Clint is being prejudiced about this. But. But Phil has never picked up on Clint’s flirting, while he always seemed perfectly able to hold his own with people he didn’t know as well. No one at SHIELD has ever heard a rumor about Agent Coulson sleeping with anyone. Phil never comments on anyone’s appearance beyond the aesthetic level. He always talks about himself growing old without a partner.

Clint had always thought Phil had noticed his interest in him, and that all this was just a way not to get his hopes up. _Self-centered._

Yeah, it’s too plausible, Phil being asexual. Which begs the question of how one should judge Clint’s behavior towards him. And there’s no answer to that question that doesn’t lead to Clint feeling guilty.

The last shred of hope that Phil may be lying gets ripped up by none other than Steve Rogers. Who, at the moment, is all but beaming at Phil, speaking excitedly about – _Bucky Barnes?_

“He used to say the same thing,” he exclaims. “About dames – and, well, blokes and –”

“You can say sex, honey, it’s a thing we have all the time.”

“Yes, thanks, Tony.” He arches an unimpressed eyebrow at Stark. “I mean, of course we didn’t know there was a name for it. He used to say there was no way he would ever find someone who’d put up with him, because of that. He’d be so happy to know that there are people who can be in a committed relationship without sex.”

“Look, you said it!” Stark may be trying to shift the attention back to himself, but the only thing Clint can see is the dumbstruck, _delighted_ expression on Phil’s face while Steve blabbers away. Because, after years of knowing him, there’s no way Clint will mistake Phil’s genuinely happy face for anything else.

Which means it’s true. If there ever was a doubt. Phil _is_ asexual, and that – well, that makes Clint an asshole.

***

Because Clint is the sort of mature person who never goes about wallowing in self-pity, the rest of the day is spent cataloging all the reasons why he should feel guilty for wanting Phil. Not only does Clint go back over all their past interactions – all the times he felt shivers down his spine when they cuddled on Phil’s sofa during movie night, all the times Phil’s hand on his shoulder made his insides feel warm – the list goes on –, but there’s also Phil’s present behavior to take into account.

Phil wraps his arm around Clint’s waist, and Clint can’t help the jolt of _happiness-excitement-lust_ that goes through him. Phil ruffles Clint’s hair, and Clint instinctively arches into his touch like a human-sized cat. Phil sits next to him during lunch, their thighs resting comfortably against each other, and it feels like home.

The worst is, Phil looks so perfectly comfortable with all these little touches. It’s clear that he has no idea about the effect he’s having on Clint ( _the effect he’s always had_ ), and that for him, this kind of intimacy is easy.

_Of course it is. He never wanted more._

_It’s all my fault for wanting more._

So maybe this isn’t the worst day in Clint’s life, but it’s getting pretty damn close to that.

***

In the end, Clint may be the kind of person who spends a whole day feeling guilty about his feelings for his best friend, but he’s surely not a coward. Which means that, once he has without doubt ascertained that he’s abusing Phil’s trust, he’s not going to keep doing that. He’s going to apologize to Phil and figure out a way to tell the others they’re not together. Then they’ll each go their separate ways. Or something like that. Yeah, Clint has it figured out. He just has to talk to Phil.

Unfortunately for him, the others don’t seem intentioned to leave him and Phil alone for a moment. First there’s Bruce and Tony wanting to run a series of tests on Phil (“Does SHIELD have your DNA sequence from before Loki somewhere?” “Yes, but I don’t…” “Nah, don’t worry, Jarvis’s got this, we’ll get the data in no time”). Phil seeks Clint’s hand to hold more than once in the time they spend in the lab, and it’s both a nice respite, to know that he can still provide comfort to Phil, and a new kind of torture, to see yet another sign that Phil trusts him _as a friend_. Then they have lunch – Pepper makes an appearance, and there’s hugs and more than a few tears –, and then it’s game afternoon (“Since when do we have game afternoon, Tony?” “My Tower, my traditions!”), then movie night (well, at least this has been a tradition for a while), complete with Italian takeout (“Ewww, Coulson, broccoli?” “Have you ever even tried them, Stark?”). In the end, the first moment Phil and Clint get alone together is when they go back to Clint’s floor to get ready for bed.

_Yeah, bed._ Like this isn’t going to be a problem.

***

Well, problem or not, there’s no doubt Clint has to say something, to at least start to make this right, so he squares is shoulders and dives right in. Or, well, he does his best to.

“We’re telling them tomorrow,” he blurts out.

Phil, who has just picked up his pajamas and is about to enter the bathroom, turns back towards him with his usual half-smile. _Which isn’t helping at all, right now._ “We’re telling whom what?”

“That it was all a fake. That we were never really together. That I – I’m sorry for this whole mess, and –”

“Oh,” is Phil’s only answer before he looks away from Clint sharply and retreats into the bathroom. Clint hears the shower running for a while. When Phil emerges, hair all wispy and soft from the blow-drier, Clint has to aggressively stomp down on the urge to run his hands through it. _Remember, Phil doesn’t want any of this._

Clint’s shower lasts longer than usual as well, though he guesses it’s much colder than Phil’s.

When it’s his turn to come out of the bathroom, he finds Phil still waiting for him. As much as he was hoping to avoid this particular confrontation, he supposes it’s only fair.

“So,” Phil’s clearly aiming for a confident smile, but it comes out as nervous instead. Clint can see the way his hands shake minutely at his sides, and _dammit_ , he didn’t need this as well. “My bed or yours?”

The next few seconds of Clint’s life are spent fighting the blush that’s creeping up his neck ( _he’s a spy, really, he should be better than this_ ) while simultaneously trying to weigh possible outcomes. What he knows is that (a) Phil is having trouble sleeping; (b) unlike Clint himself, he has no problems or second thoughts about physical intimacy between them; (c) still, he’d never ask for this sort of thing if he didn’t need it. Plus, Phil is scared – Clint has seen him this morning, and last night as well, and while he has no personal experience with memory loss, he’s been through his fair share of doubting his own mind.

All things considered, there’s no doubt that Clint is going to say yes to Phil’s implicit question. It looks like Phil himself isn’t so sure about that, however, because while Clint was considering his options his face has fallen so much that he’s now doing an excellent approximation of a sad, wet, lonely kitten. (And really, Clint should stop having such thoughts, even though Phil’s hair really looks as soft as a kitten’s fur.)

Still, the way Phil’s dejected expression is replaced by a small ( _hopeful?_ ) smile when Clint answers, “My bed is bigger,” is worth the awkwardness that will inevitably follow in the morning.

***

Case in point, the next morning Clint has the dubious pleasure to wake up with Phil’s head pillowed on his chest ( _okay, what?_ ) and the nicely contrasting thought that today’s the day they’re coming clean to the others about their “relationship”.

_Isn’t it delightful?_

To make matters worse, now Clint has to wait for Phil to wake up before he can move. Which means that he gets to watch Phil stirring and sniffling softly as he emerges from his (apparently comfortable) sleep, and then he gets to hear him mumbling, his forehead scrunching up in adorable confusion, as he groggily realizes what kind of position they’re in.

He also gets to hear a still half-asleep Phil whisper, “I never thought I’d have this.”

He sounds _awed_ – and _boy_ but that does not square with Clint’s view of the situation so far.

Clint waits for Phil to wake up properly and get out of bed (with only one embarrassed glance back at him, because Phil is a professional) before calling for Jarvis.

“May I ask you a favor?” he says.

“Certainly, Agent Barton.” Jarvis’s voice sounds almost warm – it certainly feels reassuring, in comparison with Clint’s current turmoil.

“Could you run a search for me? About asexuality and – and relationships.”

“Of course. Do you need me to hold the results until you have the time to have a look at them?”

“Yes, please, Jarvis. I’ll get back to you after breakfast, okay?”

“I think that’s perfect, Agent Barton.”

***

Breakfast is a surprisingly uneventful affair. Steve and Stark look like they stayed up last night for the sort of activity Clint very much _doesn’t_ want to think about, and Bruce, Natasha and Thor are planning to meet up for a yoga session later that day. (Thor’s passion for yoga is one of the many things Clint would never have predicted – then, again, he is some sort of deity, so it isn’t so surprising that he finds it spiritually fulfilling.) As for Phil, he looks tense. Clint is trying very hard not to make up possible reasons for that.

After breakfast, Clint sneaks away to an empty room on the common floor and asks Jarvis to send any interesting results he’s found to his tablet. Even with Stark’s ungodly fast wifi, it takes a few minutes for the data to upload.

Clint spends the rest of the morning reading, browsing pages, and generally questioning his entire worldview until now.

He’s pondering about the respective definitions of asexuality, aromanticism, and generally where the hell does all this leave him ( _and Phil_ ), when Tony enters the room he’s holed up in. Given the effect that Tony’s latest sweeping entrance had on his life, Clint feels like he has every reason to worry about what might follow.

He’s not wrong.

“The whole no sex thing,” Tony starts. “I’ve been thinking about it – and, you know, I may or may not have had the cleaning bots check for condoms just to be sure, and you really don’t have any, which, well, you could still be going bareback, but you don’t seem the type, and I think I’m derailing a bit, where was I – ah, yes, the no sex thing. I’ve decided I can’t figure out how you put up with it.”

Clint stares at him, mouth hanging open. Stark stares back. Then he _wiggles his eyebrows,_ and _oh dear_ , what did Clint do to deserve this _now_?

“Did it ever cross your mind that I might just be happy to respect Phil’s choices?”

“Yeah, yeah, and that’s wonderful, I guess, but – don’t you ever get frustrated? Because, don’t get me wrong, if I were in the same situation I’d –”

“I don’t want to know what you’d do if you were in the same situation, Stark.”

“… I was actually about to say something nice? Hey, I love Steve!”

Despite himself, Clint ends up smiling. “I know. You might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“And it’s not just about his remarkable prowess under the sheets. Although that’s – okay, okay, I get it, no need to glare, back to the point. Which is, how does that work for you? Agent Agent being asexual? Aren’t you – don’t you feel like you’re missing out on something?”

Looking back, Clint will have no doubts that the main reason everything went to hell at this point is that this particular question is all too easy for him to answer. The secondary reason is that Tony is standing between him and the door, effectively blocking his view.

“Look, I – I don’t think you understand. I spent years waiting for this. I didn’t think I’d ever have it, and I don’t care if it sounds cheesy, classic chick-flick stuff. And then Phil was dead, and it was the worst months of my life – until you brought him back.”

“SHIELD brought him back. I, uhm, disagree with the methods.”

“Well, he’s still here. He’s – I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. And believe me, right now, I want any kind of connection we can have. Sex is just the tip of the iceberg. Look, I l– I care about Phil. A lot. I spent four whole months thinking he was dead and wanting nothing more than to be able to touch him again – and now he’s here. Of course I _want_ him. I –”

All things considered, given how embarrassing Clint’s little speech is growing, maybe it’s not entirely a bad thing that he gets cut off at that point. That he gets cut off by the sound of the door swinging shut, however – that’s most definitely _not_ a good thing.

He looks at Stark. Stark, obviously, is still there, and Clint saw him close the door when he got in, which means that someone else was listening. And said someone not only heard what Clint was saying about Phil, but they were so affected by it that they had to leave.

_Oh, who are we kidding._ Clint knows exactly who was at the door. His life is awesome like that.

In case he needed any confirmation, however, he’s on his feet and out of the door quickly enough to catch a glimpse of Phil’s back retreating ( _fleeing_ ) down the hallway. Of course, because Clint is the kind of person who makes well-pondered choices, he chooses to run after him, leaving a bemused-looking Tony Stark behind.

***

Since Phil is, unsurprisingly, more of a mature adult than Clint will ever be, he slows down and stops as soon as he notices that he’s being followed. Still, he looks like he’d rather be faced with the Hulk in a bad mood than Clint right now.

“Yes?” he says, and Clint’s stomach sinks further down than he’d thought possible.

“I’m sorry,” he starts. He hopes it’s a good start.

Judging by the way Phil’s face shutters, it isn’t. “What for?”

_Uh, you know, for_ _accidentally_ _confessing_ _my love for you to Tony Stark._ “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable?” Clint’s voice raises a little at the end. This is not how he wanted this to go.

“You didn’t,” Phil answers, and starts walking away, as if the conversation is finished. Clint, obviously, doesn’t agree.

“Wait. I think we need to talk.”

“About what.” Phil turns back towards him, so Clint can see exactly how angry he is. Which is, well, a lot more than he’s used to seeing Phil angry. “About the fact that I don’t want to have sex? Or is it about the fact that you’re going around telling people you _care about me_ to make your lies more believable?”

_Okay, no, wait._ “I didn’t mean to –”

“We could be having sex, you know. It’s not like I ‘care about it’.” He makes actual air quotes around the last words. It _hurts_.

_It’s not about sex_ , Clint wants to say. _Since when has this been about sex?_ Or, _but_ I _care about it_. Or anything, really, to get that _hurt-angry-disappointed_ expression off Phil’s face and bring him back to being a person he can talk to. But Phil’s words have hit something deep in Clint’s chest, and right now, he doesn’t have the strength to look for the right answer. What he does is turn his back on Phil and storm off on his own.

Or, well, he tries to. The fact that Tony Stark is waiting just round the corner doesn’t help in that endeavor.

“Trouble in paradise?” Stark asks. In any other moment, Clint would be willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and accept the possibility that he’s honestly concerned, he’s just terrible at talking to real people. Right now, he snaps at him.

“There’s no fucking paradise,” he snarls. “It was just me. I messed up.”

Tony moves to block his path. _Bad fucking idea._ He seems to realize that just in time, but he still tries to follow Clint. “What do you mean, it was just you?”

_I mean I’m an idiot._ “Look, we were never together, okay? Me and Phil. It was a fake. I lied to you all.” _And now I messed up my chances on top of that._

Stark looks like he wants to say something in response, but this time, Clint does storm off.

***

He expects Natasha to come drag him out of the range after a few hours, and sure enough, she does.

“You missed three targets,” she says, glancing at his score.

_Yes, I did. So?_ , he wants to answer. Instead, he stays focused on his practice routine ( _it’s only the fifth time he’s gone through it, after all_ ), and makes sure he doesn’t miss a fourth.

“You missed three targets, and Phil has barricaded himself in your apartment. You either go talk to him and sort this out, or I drag you there. Your choice.”

Clint scoffs, but he starts stowing away his gear all the same. “Did Stark rat me out to everyone already?”

“I’ve seen him talk to Steve, but I didn’t hear.”

“So he told his husband already. Next thing, he’s going to call a press conference.”

“Clint. Don’t try to act like a child when Tony’s actually behaving in a responsible way. Go and talk to Phil.”

Once more, as most of Natasha’s suggestions do, it makes a lot of sense. So Clint goes.

***

Phil is, indeed, holed up in Clint’s apartment. Quite literally so: he’s curled up on the living room couch, with the lights dimmed and a blanket covering his legs. Clint expects him to start to speak as soon as he’s entered the room, but instead, Phil just raises his head and looks at him.

It’s probably the most vulnerable Clint has ever seen him.

Which doesn’t make sense at all. Clint should be the one freaking out about losing one of his best friends ( _and the man he loves_ ), not Phil.

_Which brings us to the main question._

“What is it you don’t care about, Phil? Is it sex? Being in a relationship? Me?”

If possible, Phil’s face falls even more. “I’ve always cared about you,” he whispers. “Please, don’t doubt that.”

And _oh_ , Clint would very much love to sweep him up for a kiss right about now. Still, he can’t – not while he still isn’t sure what Phil’s intentions are.

“Why all this, then?” he asks, taking care to keep his voice level.

Phil bites his lip – a move that should be illegal, given the shivers of _want_ it sends down Clint’s spine. “It’s probably going to sound dumb after all that happened, but,” he gives a wry smile, “I don’t want to trap you in this.”

“Trap me in what?”

Phil tilts his head a little, like Clint’s not paying attention as much as he’d want. “This,” he repeats.

“You?” Clint asks – because if that’s what Phil meant, then he’s _such a huge idiot_ , Clint can’t even get started about it.

“Not many people would agree to a relationship that doesn’t involve sex,” Phil states calmly, like it’s some sort of universally accepted truth. “Judging from what you were telling Stark this morning, it would be hard for you too. I don’t want to force you into anything.”

To be honest, Clint can’t decide if this is better or worse than what he was expecting. “Why do you think this is about sex?”

Phil merely raises an eyebrow at him. _Damn Natasha for teaching him that move._

“I wasn’t talking about sex, you know. To Tony, I mean. I was talking about wanting _you_. And yes, that sometimes includes certain parts of your anatomy that are, uh, less safe for work, but honestly? It _does not matter_.”

Phil shakes his head, but Clint knows he’s not mistaken about the glimmer of hope in his eyes. He moves to sit beside him on the couch.

“What matters,” he goes on, “is that I thought you were _dead_ until two days ago, and you aren’t. It’s that I get a chance to be in the same room as you and hear you speak again, and not because I’m watching some recording like some sort of pathetic, abandoned puppy.”

Now Phil looks faintly alarmed. “Did you really – ?”

It’s best to try and shrug this off, Clint decides. “Yeah, I may or may not have watched that video Hill made of us last Christmas more often than my therapist considered healthy.”

“Oh,” goes Phil, and his face does some sort of complicated thing. “Look, I – I really don’t want to pressure you into this.”

_And really, this has been going on for too long._ “Pressure me into what, Phil? Being together? Because you’re never going to be able to do that, since I very much want us to be _together_ already, in any sense of the word. If,” and now Clint’s voice falters, because there’s still a possibility that Phil doesn’t want this, “if you want it as well, of course.”

Phil’s only answer is to lean in and kiss him. His lips are soft, and they taste surprisingly sweet – or maybe that’s Clint’s mind projecting the incredible outburst of happiness he’s feeling onto his senses. He kisses Phil back, of course he does. He runs his fingers through Phil’s hair, just because he can, until Phil puts a hand on his hip and draws him closer.

Clint may be doing his best to keep this chaste, but he can’t help the surge of want that courses through him when Phil’s hand slides beneath his shirt. He moans.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, pulling back and turning away a little.

As an answer, Phil hooks a finger under his chin and tilts his head back towards himself. He’s looking at Clint with a very serious expression. He’s also _very_ close – more than he’s ever been until five minutes earlier. Clint is extremely happy with this arrangement, he realizes.

“Clint Barton,” Phil says, “I may not be a fan of sex, but I never want to hear you apologize for wanting me. Just –” and now it’s Phil’s voice’s turn to waver, apparently – “don’t be offended if you don’t get the same from me. I’m –”

Clint knows that Phil’s going to say he’s sorry. He chooses to silence him with another kiss. “It’s okay,” he murmurs against Phil’s lips. “We’re okay.”

“Yes,” Phil whispers back. “We are.”

***

When they finally emerge from Clint’s apartment (after a very long cuddling session, during which Clint has gotten an interesting preview of the many ways Phil can make him feel blessedly good, safe, happy, content, and a million other sappy things, all without doing anything sexual), they find the rest of the team waiting for them on the common floor. Natasha is smiling already, because she knows too much.

Tony has a look at them, at the way they’re standing close to each other and holding hands again, and just says, “So?”

As an answer, Phil cups Clint’s face in his hands and proceeds to kiss him thoroughly in front of the whole team. He only stops when they start cheering.


End file.
